


Here to See You Through 'Til the Day's End

by anthologia



Series: At Least the War is Over [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Damian STILL doesn't care how dare you say otherwise!!, Depression, Dick is just Doing His Best, Drug Side Effects, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Medication, Mental Health Issues, Past Character Death, Referenced Fucked-Up Child-Rearing, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7822729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthologia/pseuds/anthologia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We don’t need anything from you right now except to get better.”</p>
<p>“What if I’m not getting better?” Tim asks. “What if there’s no better to get? Or nothing works? Or I find something, but this,” he pulls his hand, shaking even worse now, away and holds it up, “comes with it?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here to See You Through 'Til the Day's End

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of Feels, what can I say. Continuation of the 'verse where Bruce is Dead For Real, Dick is basically a single dad now who is Doing His Best, and Tim is REALLY not coping well.
> 
> I'm still using Stars' "In Our Bedroom (After the War)" for titles.

“Drake is ill. Again.”

Dick sighs and closes the lid of the laptop he’d been working on. (Wayne Enterprises work this time, not Batman. Sometimes it feels like his life is getting swallowed up by everything Bruce left behind.) “Thanks, Little D.” He absently ruffles Damian’s hair and somehow doesn’t get his wrist snapped for it. Tiny steps every day. “He in his room?”

“Yes.” Even though he didn’t retaliate with violence, Damian still looks pissy, kind of like a really insulted kitten. Dick reminds himself that his wrist isn’t out of the woods yet and refrains from commenting on the comparison.

He finds Tim lying on his bed today instead of hunched over the toilet, which Dick guesses is improvement. The last medication they had Tim on made him really nauseous. “Hey.” He sits down on the bed, next to where Tim is curled up with his back to Dick. “How’re you feeling?”

It’s quiet for a little while, but Dick’s getting used to that. Sometimes it just takes Tim a while to break through his own head and start talking to people. “This is stupid,” Tim says eventually.

“What’s stupid?”

“ _This_.” Tim struggles a little trying to sit up. “Just – “ Dick sees the problem right away; this medication might not be making him as nauseous as the last one but his hands are shaking heavily. Dick reaches out and grasps them, holding them still. “I can’t patrol like this, Dick.”

“You don’t have to.” Dick pulls Tim forward gently until he’s leaning up against Dick’s chest. “We don’t need anything from you right now except to get better.”

“What if I’m not getting better?” Tim asks. “What if there’s no better to get? Or nothing works? Or I find something, but _this_ ,” he pulls his hand, shaking even worse now, away and holds it up, “comes with it?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“That’s not – “ He shoves away from Dick. “That’s just a _thing_ you say to stall when you don’t know what to do, it doesn’t _mean_ anything.”

“ _Tim_.” There’s a little growl to the way he says the name, his Batman voice, and he didn’t even really mean to use it but at least it forces Tim to _listen_. “It means _we’ll figure it out_. You’ll find something else or we’ll figure out a way to manage the side effects. Priority one is to get you feeling better, _then_ we handle the rest. Got it?”

“Yes.” Tim nods stiffly but immediately stops and shakes his head instead. “No. I don’t know.  I’m not – why am I even _here_?”

“Here as in… your room? In Gotham?” Dick’s pretty sure he’s not going to like the answer, but: “Help me out here.”

“ _Here_. In this family. I’m not Robin anymore, I’ve barely even been Red Robin lately. I’m not _useful_.”

“Tim, that’s not…” It feels like he’s said this a million times already, but he’ll say it a million and one times if that’s what Tim needs. “That’s not how family works. It’s not how _this_ family works. You’re not here because we want you to fulfill some role. You could decide to never put on a costume again, and you’d still be my brother. I’d still _want_ you to be my brother.”

Tim goes quiet, and Dick determinedly clings to the faint hope that this means he’s at least going to _think_ about believing him. In the meantime, he figures it’s time to change the subject a little. “FYI, you might want to talk to Little D at some point. I think he’s starting to be convinced your doctor’s trying to poison you. He hasn’t said it outright, but I caught him re-doing the background checks.” He doesn’t even _want_ to think about whether or not Damian’s worried about it because he’s actually seen it happen to someone in the League. He can only cope with so many fires at a time. “I talked to him about it, but a little reassurance would go a long way.”

He can see the barbed retort Tim wants to say before it melts away. “He’s… actually worried, isn’t he?”

“I did tell you.” Dick ruffles Tim’s hair, because he may have Damian semi-tolerating it now but that doesn’t erase the need for Tim ruffles, especially now that he’s grown it longer and infinitely more fun to mess up. Tim lets out a soft, grumpy noise but doesn’t stop him. “He may act all prickly and assassin-trained, but give him a chance to be a kid and he’ll _be_ a kid. Eventually.”

“I guess.” Tim still looks pretty doubtful, but tiny steps every day, just like Damian. Dick just has to keep both of them moving in the right direction. “This sucks for you, doesn’t it.”

And maybe Dick’s starting to get a little too complacent about having roughly the same conversation over and over again because _wow_ , he did not see that coming. “What?”

“Dealing with me. Trying to keep Damian in line. Being Batman.” Tim pulls his legs up to his chest. “You didn’t ask for any of it.”

“Did we not _just_ have a conversation about being brothers? It’s what comes with the territory.”

“Still.” Tim worries his lower lip. “I wanted to do more. Red Robin could’ve at least _helped_.”

If he’s being honest with himself, sometimes he wishes Tim could do more, too. Trying to fill Bruce’s role is overwhelming at best, and the pressure of his responsibilities would be a little easier to handle with Red Robin at his side again. But he needs Tim more than he needs another vigilante in Gotham. “You _are_ helping. You’re here. That’s what I need.”

“Hm.” Tim doesn’t even bother to hide how unconvinced he is of that. Dick’s not sure if it’s disheartening or refreshing that at least he doesn’t have to pry what Tim’s thinking out of him. “I’m feeling better now. You can go if you want to.”

_Sure you are_ , Dick doesn’t say. Instead, he swings his legs onto the bed. “What if I don’t want to go? What if I want to hang out with my brother?”

“I’m not going to be very good company,” Tim says, but it’s not _get out of my room_.

“You don’t have to be a sparkling host, we’ll just watch bullshit on Netflix.” He grins sidelong at Tim. “I can grab Damian and make him join us if you want to make things _really_ interesting.”

Tim snorts. “As if he’d let you.”

“I’m not above telling him he can’t go out patrolling tonight until he puts in at least an hour of mandatory being-a-normal-ten-year-old time. I’ve done it before.” Damian claims to hate it, but Dick’s pretty sure he’s starting to enjoy it despite himself. He’s getting _really_ good at Mario Kart.

“Maybe later,” Tim says, but there’s a tiny grin creeping up the corners of his mouth. Dick considers that victory.

“Suit yourself.” Dick snags the remote from Tim’s bedside table before wrapping his arm around Tim’s shoulders. Having a TV in their rooms is practically a necessity for their family, given how much time they’ve all spent laid up from one thing or another. “Animaniacs sound good?”

“Yeah. Um.” Tim leans somewhat tentatively against his side. “ –Thanks.”

Dick goes for a second hair ruffle because what the hell, he figures he’s earned it. “Anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you are interested in my fics and want more, I have an account at syntactition.tumblr.com where I have bits of stories that are currently in the works and other ficlets and stories that haven't made their way to AO3.


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